


Nowhere to Go

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash is a terrible liar. But he tries. He tries.</p><p>Only if to make Tucker smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nowhere to Go

Once in his life, Wash couldn’t go three days without waking up screaming.

    It was a rough time, where his own memories and memories of a man he never was were all mixed together in his brain, blended so deeply that even now he thinks he’ll never be able to separate them. Those days, the days in the hospital, the days in Recovery, he’d often wake up with his hand clamped over his mouth, trying to stop a scream from getting loose and alerting the higher ups that he was less “stable” than they assumed. Staying with the Red and Blues helped, the screams vanishing to arrive only once a week, than once every two. It was only once they were reunited on a planet they would end up saving, that Wash realized they’d fallen to once a month.

    It was recovery, the true kind, the kind they always talked about in the hospital but had no intention of actually working towards. The kind that came with friends turned family, a warm hand on his shoulder, an offer of breakfast when those nightmares came back to haunt him. The kind that came with Tucker’s smile.

    Love didn’t cure all ills, Wash knew. But it helped. Goddamn, it helped.

    Which was maybe why Wash was so determined to be with Tucker now, when the man’s nightmares were almost as furious as Wash’s had ever been.

    Wash didn’t run in as Tucker started screaming in the room next to him, knowing the loud noises wouldn’t help someone who was already panicked. He opened the door as quiet as he could, and when he closed it behind him to shudder them both in darkness, he made sure the noise of it closing only came from the lock clicking into place. Turning up the lights a fraction was a good move, it would help him orient himself when he woke up, and using a commanding voice, Wash spoke.

    “Tucker, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

    Once, when Wash was young and foolish, he’d tried to wake Maine up from these kinds of dreams by shaking him. It proved to be a mistake; the black eye Wash received in the other man’s panic was enough to teach him to be more cautious in the future. Tucker might not have been as dangerous as Maine, but the last thing Wash wanted was for him to wake up fighting.

    “Tucker. Tucker. It’s a dream.”

    Tucker turned some more, his hands gripping the mattress, mouth open in a now silent scream. Wash tried to ignore the churning in his gut ( _what if it’s because of Epsilon, what if it’s because of Epsilon, Grey said he was fine_ ) and spoke up a little louder.

    “Tucker! Wake up!”

    Tucker flew up with a gasp, his brown eyes wide, and in that moment, Wash could breathe again.

    It took him five minutes or so to calm down and another five to talk about it. Wash sat next to him on his bed, rubbing his back (and God, weren’t they the cliche). Tucker had his head in his hands, fingers buried in his hair, and Wash hoped he wasn’t digging his nails into his scalp.

    “I keep seeing it,” Tucker said at last. “What he thought before he fragmented. Every version that it could have gone wrong. Like every last version. One where Caboose got shot in the head, one where Simmons got almost blown away, one where Donut blew himself up to buy us time, or where you guys crashed trying to get to us-” His voice cracked on that line and he took another deep breath. “And sometimes they’re all at once, and I-” He gritted his teeth. “I can’t remember that they’re not real. When I wake up. I think I’m the last one left and I’m gonna have to leave this room as the last guy left, and attend the funeral as the last guy left, and I-”

    Wash removed his hand from Tucker’s back and wrapped it around his shoulders, pulling him close. Tucker didn’t resist, shaking just the smallest amount and Wash tucked Tucker’s forehead under his chin.

    “It’s not real.”

    “Hargrove is still out there,” Tucker said. “It could still happen. I could still lose everything.”

    And he was right. Wash knew he was right, because it had happened to him, he’d been the last one left standing, the one to go to the funerals as the last guy left because he was the funeral. Tucker was right and it hurt, because one day he could be the last man to leave the room still standing, they could all be casualties of war and Tucker would have to pick up the pieces.

    That was the truth of the matter. Tucker was right. And Wash couldn’t bear to let him know that his nightmare could become a reality.

    “You won’t lose me.”

    There was a beat of silence. Tucker chuckled, a bitter thing.

    “You’re a terrible liar, Wash.”

    Wash just pressed a kiss to Tucker’s forehead.

    “I know, love. I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Then Tucker mocked Wash for calling him love forever, the end.


End file.
